Blood Down My Back
by Hiriyou
Summary: Suicide, implied rape, angst, POV. All the good stuff! Okay, so I suck at summaries. Just read please? I wrote this in ten minutes after a bad day.


Author: Hiriyou  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Only the story.  
  
Warnings: Angst, Chara-death, implied rape  
  
Pairings: 2+?, ?+1, implied 3x4  
  
"Blood Down My Back"  
  
He betrayed him. They all did... but he didn't care about them.... only him....  
  
Those bright blue orbs were still in his mind's eye. They still burned into his vision. Clouding it with anger and hurt.  
  
How could he?  
  
If he were to be honest with himself, he knew it was bound to happen. No one ever really ever trusted him or stayed his friend. But still, it hurt.  
  
When the four of them came into his room that night and did what they did, it hurt. But that wasn't what bothered him now. No, that pain had been gone for a couple of hours. This pain was deeper. It was embedded into his very soul, the core of his being.  
  
He still asked the same question: "Why?"  
  
He yelled it out to no one in particular. Crying it up to the sky, screaming it to the earth, hoping it would swallow him and shield him from the pain.'  
  
But there was never an answer.  
  
If it had just been the other three, he wouldn't have cared. But it wasn't three, it was four. Four people came to him that night. Four times the pain. But a thousand times the hurt.  
  
What was wrong with him? He asked himself that question a lot. But it seemed to run non-stop in his brain after the encounter. Endlessly driving out possibilities, optimistic ones that he dismissed automatically because they were positive, and negative ones he didn't want to accept because it just tore at his heart all the more.  
  
As they held him down, one by one, he saw them close their eyes. Except for him. He was the only one of the four to keep his eyes open. And so he saw them, those eyes. Those burning blue eyes that reflected it all. All the contempt, all of the hate, all of the malice, and all the sarcasm. The sarcasm was the worst really, it spoke volumes, it said, "What did you think? That I would love you and this would be a fairytale? Happy ending and everything? You really are useless."  
  
The others he would have forgiven. Never trust them again, but then again, who can you trust except yourself? And sometimes you can't even trust yourself.  
  
I've always trusted people too easily. And then they just do stuff like he did. They all just do something to make me bleed. Sometimes it's a flesh wound, and I can forget about it after a couple of days when the pain goes away. But this wasn't a flesh wound. This was fatal.  
  
And he'd prove it, too. Did they all think that just because he could laugh and ignore what had happened the next day that he really did forget? Were they really so dense as to believe that his expressions were genuine? Because his expressions never were.  
  
He had always waited. Waited for them to do it.  
  
To do something so he could remember it all. Remember how predictable people are. Trial and error doesn't work. You get hurt and eventually you heal? That's not true either. He was still bleeding in some places.  
  
And the blood stained his hands just like the ones of the innocent people he killed every day.  
  
So he was going to prove it to them.  
  
He was going to prove things. He was going to prove that he was human. That he could feel, he could hurt, and he could bleed.  
  
Going to prove that people can't always let things slide, that just because he knew they talked about him when they thought he couldn't hear, and acted like he didn't hear, that it didn't mean the words didn't sting.  
  
He was going to make sure they knew what they did to the fullest extent. But he couldn't repeat their actions upon them. As much as the hatred and anger boiled in him, he couldn't do that. But they could, that proved something else; That he was better then them.  
  
People judged him all the time, without ever wanting to get to know him. And then they acted like they thought they should. Pushing and prodding him into the person they wanted him to be. He didn't want to take it anymore.  
  
He had always forgiven. Even for the gravest things that should never be forgiven, he'd forgiven them. But no one ever forgiven him. Everybody cried on his shoulder and he'd pat there backs and console until his voice was hoarse. But no one ever lent him a shoulder, or even a tissue to dry his eyes. They expected so much from him, but expected him to want, ask, or need nothing himself.  
  
Did they think he wasn't human? That was why he needed to prove he was.  
  
Especially to him.  
  
He didn't really care what the others thought about what he was going to do, but he needed to know. Because he didn't know if the other boy did. His eyes before, had given nothing away, but that night he was let in on his emotions.  
  
And fuck it all if he didn't find some perverse happiness in it.  
  
It was sick and wrong, but it was still the way it was. Before he'd known nothing of the boy's feelings, but that night an array of emotions shone in his eyes. Yes, it's true they were all malevolent and all aimed at him, but he didn't care. It still made him feel good to be privy to such knowledge. And he'd hold the precious gift of those evil thoughts and intentions close to him until he could no longer.  
  
Now was the time to act.  
  
It took him hours, but he'd finally done it. Thought up the perfect way to let them know just how damn human he was!  
  
What would they think? He didn't really care anymore. Would they cry? No. Would they care? Probably not. What would they do if they knew in advance what he was planning? Most likely nothing. *Do* they know? Very possible, he wouldn't put it past him to know.  
  
The ledge was gaining on him. And he was running to it in return. Could he fly? He had before, he hoped it didn't happen again.  
  
And suddenly the ground met up with him. Hard cement pressed into him and he hugged the cement in return. It hurt. But it wasn't the bleeding of his soul and he could deal with it. Then suddenly, the world was black and his body didn't want to move.....  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The three pilots sitting around the room were watching the television intensely. One had been reading before the news bulletin had broken.  
  
"Winner! Get in here and see this!" the Chinese boy yelled towards the kitchen, soon the blonde appeared.  
  
"What is it?" he was stirring a bowl, the other three could only point to the monitor.  
  
Quatre sighed and looked at it, a crash came as the bowl of mix broke on the floor, "Oh my god...." his hand flew to his mouth.  
  
Trowa wrapped his arms around the smaller man, "Why would he do something like this Trowa?! Why!" Quatre buried his head into his lover's chest.  
  
Speaking up for the first time, Heero's eyes were distant, "Look," he said simply.  
  
The others looked at the screen as the large building came into view, there were painted words:  
  
"You can't kill death, so I guess it's too bad I'm human. I love you Heero."  
  
Duo's body lay on the ground in a bloody mess below the final message of Shinigami.  
  
Notes: Okay, please don't hate me? I just had a really bad day, found a poem, and expressed my feelings into a ten-minute fic. The reason I picked Duo is because he's my favorite character and I can relate to him the easiest.  
  
By the way, if you're interested as to the poem I'm talking about that inspired this fic, it's below  
  
"Blood Down My Back"  
  
Friends watch from afar  
  
Without coming to help  
  
They're watching you fall  
  
With their party hats on.  
  
How can they take all you are  
  
And still ask you for more?  
  
Without thinking, just once, that maybe  
  
What they've taken is more than you are.  
  
The battle each day  
  
Is making them stronger from wins  
  
That you bought, but  
  
Wearing you to the bone with the losses.  
  
Concrete's your friend  
  
As you've taken the dive  
  
The cheering roars up  
  
While they pass out the wine.  
  
It's taken much time, which you'd spend again  
  
To know everything that you know now,  
  
They never trusted you  
  
Though you always had blind faith in them. 


End file.
